


Founder Headcanon's

by Arrowsbane



Series: Tumblr Headcanon [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Godric is too trusting, Headcanon, Helga is St. George's daughter, Nobody is perfect, Now with Snippets from LullabyKnell, Rowena has nightmares, Salazar will never trust a muggle, Tumblr, witch burnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowsbane/pseuds/Arrowsbane
Summary: My Headcanon for the Founder's.Because history is like "omg, how cool, are these guys," and I'm like "nah, they're total dorks."





	1. Founder's Headcanon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Godric Gryffindor  
> 2\. Rowena Ravenclaw  
> 3\. Salazar Slytherin  
> 4\. Helga Hufflepuff  
> 5\. Hogwarts is...

**1\. Godric Gryffindor**

Godric Gryffindor is the second son of an old Pureblood family. He’s raised a warrior, trained with both sword and wand. He grows up in a hidden magical village as safe as is possible for his time period.

He knows little of the outside world, and thinks that Muggles are, well… interesting. He thinks they’re simple, and slow, and so yes there’s the Witch Burning’s, but the poor things are frightened and don’t know any better. If they could stop being afraid, he thinks they’d get along swimmingly.

In all honesty, Godric is rather much like Arthur Weasley, which makes sense, if one was aware that Godric’s third daughter married well and has a son. That son marries and has a son of his own before dying, and when his widow remarries, both she and the boy take the surname of her new husband, which just so happens to be Weasley.

But that is not the point. The point is that for all his bravery and chivalry, Godric is a little too trusting. A little too friendly and kind…

 

**2\. Rowena Ravenclaw**

Rowena Ravenclaw is also a Pureblood.

She’s the firstborn daughter of a magical house that has a peerage in the Muggle world.

She’s a noble. She’s also very, very clever. A little too clever. For what comes with Pride and Intelligence is Hubris, and in her case it is dangerous. Rowena Ravenclaw is curious. She wants to know _everything._

She knows her potions, and she’s gifted with what will later be called transfiguration and charms, only known as ‘casting’ in this time period. She loves numbers and runes the best though, finds them fascinating.

She’s not the best with magical creatures, but that’s more to do with the practical aspect. She doesn’t like to get her skirts muddy, or dirt under her nails.

But that’s okay. That’s normal for a noble.

Until one day she forgets to make sure nobody is following her, her thoughts caught up in a new rune array she’s been wanting to try out.

She doesn’t hear the footsteps behind her, doesn’t know she’s in danger until blinding pain explodes through her head as a heavy tree branch collides with her skull.

She wakes up, half-dazed and nauseous, tied to a stake, her wand in pieces…

And her heart sinks. She’s in no state to do magic right now.

And that’s where Salazar comes in…

 

**3\. Salazar Slytherin**

Salazar Slytherin is, ironically considering what his house becomes, a Muggleborn. The only one of the lot.

He lives a rather normal life in a rather normal village, and if he can speak to the grass snakes out in the field, well, he keeps that his own little secret. And for good reason.

But one day, he’s caught off guard, his father finds him holding a conversation with an adder. The adder is dispatched ruthlessly with a swing of the farmer’s scythe, and poor Salazar is dragged kicking and screaming by his father to the river.

His father apologizes, crosses himself, and prays to God for his son’s soul, before trying to drown him in the river. Salazar’s magic kicks in, saving his life by spiriting him away to a random space in the woods.

But he’s a child, and he’s frightened, and he doesn’t understand. So he goes home to his mother.

Or rather, he tries to.

When he reaches the outskirts of the village, the air is heavy with smoke and the dying screams of a woman. His mother burns at the stake for consorting with the devil and birthing what can only be called devilspawn.

He turns his back on the village, and closes his heart to Muggles.

He will never trust blindly again.

So years later, when Salazar later finds Rowena tied to the stake, her wand broken into pieces and flames licking up her skirts, he snaps.

Not a single Muggle from the village survives, he spirits her away from there and spends three days nursing her back to health.

It’s not long after, when they run headfirst (no, literally) into Godric.

 

**4.** **Helga Hufflepuff**

So that’s Godric and Rowena, and that’s Salazar. But what about Helga?

Helga Hufflepuff is the most normal of the lot. If one can call her normal.

She’s a Half-blood, born to a Pureblood wizard and a rather pretty young Muggle woman. Her father’s name is George and her mother is Mary, and their story is a little outlandish.

Once upon a time, Mary had almost been eaten by a dragon. And then George had come along, wand in his left hand, and sword in his right. The legend says that George slew the dragon, but what they forget is that yes, he killed the dragon, but in the process he dropped his wand twice, was thrown into a tree once and almost fell on his sword three times.

In the end, Mary had been so amused and charmed by his demeanor that she married him. Nobody so clumsy could possibly be sent by the devil, of course, nobody who would slay a fire worm could have been a servant of the devil either.

So Helga grew up with a foot firmly in both worlds, and a loving family who impressed upon her the importance of familial loyalty and determination, a family who insisted there was more to a person than meets the eye.

And that suited her just fine. She’s the last to join the gang, but she’s the first to suggest what will later become the foundation for Hogwarts.

She didn’t choose the name though. That’s Rowena, drunk on mead for you.

 

**5\. Hogwarts is…**

Hogwarts is meant to be home. Hogwarts is meant to be a safe haven.

And it is, for a while.

But Salazar is wary of the Muggleborn like himself, more afraid of their families than the children themselves. And Godric wants everybody to love magic like he does.

The two friends can never see eye-to-eye on this subject.

They argue for years, while Rowena watches stonily, her own experience with fire and death still haunting her dreams on stormy nights. Helga, who has never known that fear, smiles and tries to keep the peace.

But fear is powerful, is dangerous, is a magic all on its own.

And it tears them apart.

Finally, Salazar cannot take it anymore, so he leaves. But he does not leave his own students without a final defense. He leaves the hatchling basilisk in his chamber: little Belinda, who so bravely promises to guard the children from the muggles, and even from Godric himself if it comes down to it.

He parts with Godric on bad terms, and the centuries twist their words, twist their stories as people remember Godric’s cheer and humor and blinding grins… Well, it makes sense, does it not, for a man who speaks serpent tongue and opposes such a kindly wizard to be evil.

So history paints Salazar as a villain, and puts Godric on a pedestal. It ignores the love Helga has for all children, even those who are not hers; and it forgets the haunted look in Rowena’s eyes and her ever-so-slightly broken soul, forgets that she’d loose herself for days locked up in a tower trying to discover the secrets of the universe. 

The little every day things (or not so little) are ignored, and set aside. 

History forgets that the Hufflepuff line descends from Helga’s brother, the woman herself unable to have children, which is why she loves them all. It forgets that Rowena’s disassociation with people leaves her daughter with an absent mother. It forgets that Godric had blood on his hands, his smile a little bit more forced after Salazar leaves… History forgets that Salazar was kind, that his strongest spell was the flame-freezer, a spell that he himself created…

History becomes legend and legend becomes myth.

A madman rises from that myth, and that is where a new legend begins…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://arrowsbane.tumblr.com/post/152869370291/founder-headcanons


	2. Founders Headcanon II: The early days…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively: The Founder’s weren’t actually very good at teaching. But they tried. They really did.
> 
> 1\. Rowena’s Creatures, and How to Find Them  
> 2\. Godric and the scribbles he calls ‘Runes’  
> 3\. Helga and the Potion's Lab  
> 4\. Salazar vs. Herbology  
> 5\. The Students...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://arrowsbane.tumblr.com/post/153447003246/founders-headcanon-ii-the-early-days
> 
> LullabyKnell wrote epic snippets, which I 1000% reccomend y'all read, see [Here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6219193/chapters/19746553)

**1\. Rowena’s Creatures, and How to Find Them.**

Before she met Salazar, Rowena hated getting her clothes dirty. She avoided having to study the magical creatures as best she could, hid when her brothers came tumbling down the halls of the family estate with a Jarvey or whatever they were into that particular week.

But then she woke up tied to a stake and thought her life was over.

And then, just as suddenly, it wasn’t.

Rowena decided then and there that she wanted to _live_ , not just exist. She decided she wanted to see all that the world had to offer and dance atop mountains while a storm raged around her. She wanted to tame a chimera, and find out why exactly a bogart can change its shape (because _that is so freaking cool, and how does that work, is it some kind of function for driving off predators?)_.

And then, of course, she promptly wound up tied to a teaching position in Scotland of all places…

Plans had to be restructured. Stupid Godric.

(Step one: ‘When in doubt, blame Godric.’)

So when Rowena teaches at Hogwarts - on her good days, we do not speak of the bad days - she teaches the precursor to Care of Magical Creatures, and she does it by being a student herself. She picks up the nearest book (and there aren’t tons of them, but most of what they do have were nicked from her family library because nobody has yet invented the cloning spell), points in a random direction, and then off the class goes.

Sometimes this works, and the class has a nice stroll discussing all the interesting creatures…

And sometimes… a pack of witches and wizards can be seen fleeing at great speed from a large unidentified creature.

[It’s actually how the school’s motto comes to be: Rowena gets distracted by a rustling bush, and one of her curious kids tickles the sleeping Hebridean Black that the class is studying. Of course, then they have to book it right back to the Castle where poor Salazar has to apologize in parseltongue – _because of course the giant fire-breathing lizard would speak snake._

((“Keep that woman away from my nest!”

“I’m sorry, really, I’m so sorry. I think she was dropped on her head as a kid… or maybe it was that time Helga’s potion exploded next to her. She won’t do it again, I promise.”))

Rowena isn’t really all that sorry. She’s more upset about not having the opportunity to find out what made the bush rustle.

((“It could have been something _fascinating_ , Salazar!”))

Godric thinks it was probably a rabbit. He says as much, and Rowena hexes him.]

As a rule, Magical Creature Studies is limited to the more advanced students.

If only because they can run faster and escape.

* * *

**2\. Godric and the scribbles he calls ‘Runes’.**

Godric Gryffindor is not known for his penmanship. He’s much better with a sword, and at the very least somewhat-competent with a wand; but if you put a pen in his hand and smile nicely, he’ll do his best.

His best being on par with a very bored teenager.

Which, is fair enough, because he’s little more than a teen himself. Not even twenty-two and he’s dragging three others like him up north to prod at rocks with their wands and hope a castle will magically build itself.

[It doesn’t. So they cheat, and buy one off a local laird.

Where did they get that much money? Magic darling, magic.

Then they wipe his memory, (which isn’t a good idea in retrospect because memory charms are really more of a heavy compulsion to just ignore shit at that particular point,) make it bigger on the inside, and just generally start hexing random shit.

It’s Salazar who gets shitfaced at a local pub and winds up making the stairs play tag. When he sobers up, he can’t fix them, so he just throws his hands in the air and declares: ‘I meant to do that _, stop laughing Godric.’_

That’s a story for another day though.]

But we’re getting off topic…

Godric chooses Runes because they look cool and you can blow stuff up with them. Also because thanks to some Viking heritage on his mother’s side of the family, he’s already sort of mostly fluent.

And that’s pretty much how that class goes.

Godric shows them a rune. The kids copy the rune. Part of the castle spontaneously catches fire.

On the bright side, they’re all getting really good at putting out fires, to the point where they could probably do it in their sleep. You can laugh dear, but when it comes to magic, it’s best to keep an open mind about these things.

Occasionally, Rowena wanders in, covered in mud on some days (or ink, on others) and lambasts him for his ridiculous choice of runes for building a ward.

“Are you kidding me?” She screeches one morning in March, “You call this a rune? It looks like one of Salazar’s plants tried to draw a butterfly and died halfway through!”

“It’s not _that_ bad Rowena,” Godric protests. “You’re overreacting.”

It really _is_ that bad. But it also _works_. Somehow.

Of course, this sets off a spirited debate which is always entertaining.

Things tend to explode or get turned into toads when Rowena and Godric debate things.

“I should have gone to Gaul!” the tall brunette shrieks, hair waving wildly about her face and falling loose from the tight chignon it had once been a part of.

Godric laughs in her face, and she turns his hair pink.

“Admit it Row’!” He shouts after her as she storms off toward her Tower, “You’re just jealous of my genius!”

She’s really not. His ability to make magic out of nothing drives her insane.

In the back of the lecture hall, a pair of Ravenclaws share a _look_ , before turning to their Hufflepuff classmates to beg for sanctuary.

This is probably going to mean _war,_ and they really don’t want to be a casualty of it.

* * *

**3\. Helga in the Potion’s Lab**

Helga is, well, a bit of a scatterbrain.

Don’t get me wrong, she’s brilliant, but she’s so easily distracted it’s a bit chaotic. She’s a fabulous cook, learnt from the best in her humble opinion, and so because of that she declares herself the resident Potions Mistress.

Helga is a genius when it comes to whipping up things, but she doesn’t always know how to explain what she calls instinct. The ability to just know how to balance a Potion, or what to add in order to curb side effects – it comes as naturally to her as breathing.

(A thousand years later, and a broken shell of a man will take her place, just as much a genius, but without her capacity to love. Hogwarts – almost sentient after a thousand years of soaking in ambient magic – will see this, and think it tragic.)

The first thing any of Helga’s student learn is to _watch the cauldron_. Because for all her brilliance, Helga can be distracted by anything (including a lost butterfly, which - depending on the mood - she will either rescue, or use as ingredients) and a bubbling-over cauldron is a dangerous cauldron; if it blows the classroom up, she’ll drag you into fixing it. (“Come on everybody, many wands make light work!”)

The second thing they learn is that Professor Hufflepuff is an undeniable gossip. She knows everything. If it happens on school grounds, she’s got an opinion. Which is kinda funny if you’re up to scratch in her classes. But if you’re not performing to her satisfaction, she’ll use the gossip against you.

“Apprentice Summerby,” Professor Hufflepuff says, and Summerby gulps at the way her eyes twinkle dangerously, “I know that Apprentice Jones is a rather fetching young lady - and I am sure she is far more attractive than I, but when you are in class I expect your attention to be on me and only me.”

Apprentice Jones turns pink, and shifts a little to the left, huddling up against her roommate - Apprentice Mallory - who glares at Summerby.

Two rows down, and Apprentice Perkins pipes up. “But Professor, you’re the prettiest witch in Scotland.”

He’s twelve, and the youngest in a classroom of fifteen-year-olds, completely in awe of Professor Hufflepuff. He’s also Summerby’s roommate, and looks up to the older wizard. Helga, of course, immediately turns a hundred and eighty degrees to smother Perkins in a hug, completely distracted - just as the boy had intended.

“You’re so sweet,” She coos, not noticing Summerby sneakily mouth a thankyou to the younger wizard.

Of course, there’s just one problem. What with everybody staring at the Professor and all.

Nobody was watching _the cauldron._

With the deafening screech of metal tearing apart at the seams, and the hiss of acid meeting stone, the cauldron collapses leaving a classroom of teenagers to panic and freak out.

“I got this!” Apprentice Williams shouts, waving his wand in a rushed movement, and completely botching the spell in his panic. The acidic green goop just continues to spread, cornering him against the wall.

“Okay, I don’t got this.” He cries, eyes wide with fear because he’s _seen_ what she was putting in there, and it wasn’t sugar and spice - that’s far too expensive of course - so you can bet he’s terrified alright. “Professor help!”

“Oh for the love of magic,” Helga sighs, releasing Perkins and yanking her own wand from her perfectly coiffed bun. She raises it, mouth open to cast a spell, and then thinks better of it.

“On second thought,” she muses, eyeing the various Apprentices balanced on bookshelves and stools throughout the room, “Mother always did say that cleaning builds character.”

“Professor?” Gulps Apprentice Fairchild, a rather pretty young witch of about fourteen. Helga does nothing. _“Professor!”_

One of the older girls casts a whispered spell that sends a rushed white mist out of the door in a flurry of movement - and is then disarmed for her efforts by a smiling Helga. It’s not a nice smile. Whoever said Hufflepuff meant nice? Loyal, yes. Hard working, sure. But nice? Hah! You’ve got to _earn it._

So when Salazar, summoned by a rather panicked student, arrives in the classroom, it’s to a collection of teenagers screeching in panicked tones, and some of them straight up in tears. And Helga watching them with a satisfied air about her.

“Don’t you dare,” She tells him when he opens his mouth to take charge.

“Helga, no.” Salazar says, eyeing the woman’s wand. _Just in case._

“Helga, _yes_.” She hisses, eyes a little wild. That had been her favorite cauldron after all. “It’ll be good for them.”

Salazar sighs, and settles in to make sure nobody gets hurt.

They don’t, and Helga is insufferable for weeks.

( _Please,_ like she’d really put kids in actual danger.

It was all fixable.)

* * *

**4\. Salazar vs Herbololgy**

Out of the four, Salazar is probably the one best suited to teaching. His level head, tendency to stay calm in a crisis, and patience combined with a healthy sense of ‘don’t do that, it’s both stupid and dangerous, will probably get you killed, and I really can’t be arsed to clean up the smoking pile of leftovers’ makes for a well-rounded educator tinged with a dash of cynical laziness.

Except, well…

He chooses the subject that is as poorly-suited to him as possible.

People forget that Salazar has just as much courage and perchance for brave feats as Godric, it’s just that he’s more conscious of how wars are more oft won with less casualties by being cunning and waiting for the right opportunity to strike.

[Yes, Salazar is brave, but he does not believe in collateral damage.]

And stout-heartedly, the parselmouth barrels onwards along his chosen path.

Which is Herbology. You’d think he’d have it easy, but in all honesty, the plants kind of have it out for him.

Salazar builds houses of glass, just like the ones in Rowena’s books, and fills them with plants from around the world – and of course it’s totally legal, what do you mean you think you saw him slipping money under the table to a shady-looking bloke in the tavern last week? – tends to them, prunes them, feeds them apple cores and overripe plums and pumpkin innards, and just general coos over his precious babies.

It’s a sad, sad thing that said precious babies are not too appreciative of his efforts and lack the common sense that says ‘do not bite the hand that feeds you’ because they do, bite in fact, and they do so often.

But Salazar is no quitter, and he refuses to give in regardless of the abuse that the plants rain down upon him. He lectures diligently, re-pots plants, ensures that ears are firmly covered when the subject of Mandrakes comes up and makes damn well sure that the kids know not to just eat random berries - especially the hallucinogenic ones because that’s just asking for trouble.

Half of the lectures are interrupted by assassination attempts, but he gets rather good at sidestepping sudden barrages of poisonous needles, or the lashing thorn-covered tentacle of the flesh-eating Rose bushes; he learns to untangle himself from the Venomous Tentacula while simultaneously demonstrating why _fire_ is the best way to tell a Devil’s Snare to _behave dammit_.

His snakes try to help, they really do, but in the end they just wind up irritating him more.

[“No, go _that way_!” Hisses Blue, and then turns to Cletus, “How does he find anything in here?”

“I can hear you,” Salazar reminds the pair of adder’s who turn as one to face him.

“We know,” Cletus tells him, completely unrepentant. The shameless little shit.

Salazar glowers, and then turns on his heel, stomping off down the greenhouse.

“He’s going the wrong way,” Cletus grumbles to Blue, and then shouts after the Wizard: “You’re going the wrong way!”

“Oh, go eat a rat!”]

Needless to say, even though they can’t understand a word, his students find these incidents hilarious.

* * *

**5\. The Students…**

The students of Hogwarts quickly come to a general consensus of: ‘If anybody asks, you lie their ass off because _Hogwarts is the best school in the world,_ _you got it?’_

In all honesty though, they’re more often than not torn between the two extremes of: ‘Oh wow, somewhere we can learn magic and stuff from these super-wicked magical genii without worrying about people trying to put us on a bonfire’, and ‘Oh my god, what even is my life? My teachers are all insane, what is happening? No – wait, Professor no, don’t touch that!’

The truth is, none of the four are really cut out to teach.

[Godric just sort of had an _idea,_ and the others went along with it if only to shut him up because _he just would not shut up or leave them alone_ – and then Helga really started to get into it because she has, like six little brothers and sisters and thought it would be brilliant fun.]

Like most genii, things come so inherently naturally to them that explaining the process (which is one-part theory, three-parts staring into space, and nine-and-three-quarter parts of lightning in a bottle – Or, in Helga’s case, ninety-nine percent pure stubbornness and one percent luck,) to others, children in particular.

But the students adore them anyway.

How could they not? I mean, they’re hilarious. Magic, Dinner and a show? What’s not to like?

For example, all of them have their own personal view on how to select students.

Godric blazes into their lives, all wonder and ferocity. He sort-of tramples any protests into the ground by accident. It’s not his fault that he naturally drowns other people out with his sheer volume alone.

Rowena watches her prey for several days beforehand, and then blindsides them with all the reasons they should up sticks and follow her to Scotland. Any argument is carefully planned for and dismantled with ease… It’s not bullying if it’s logic and reason, right?

Helga just waffles on and on while pottering around the garden, until finally people just give up and give in to her kind demeanor. She’s just so nice, they don’t have the heart to say no, and honestly they’re not even sure what is happening anymore…

And Salazar… Salazar is a firm believer in preventative kidnapping (which is how half of the students wound up at Hogwarts anyway) and has a bad habit of just grabbing kids by the scruffs of their necks and apparating up to the school without so much as a by-your-leave.

Godric really doesn’t approve of this, and so whenever it happens the poor student’s first night at Hogwarts is usually marked with a full-on row between the two friends, and the whole school getting a show out of it.

["Salazar, you can't just go around _stealing children_!" Godric rages, throwing his hands up in the air, while Salazar sulks.

"He was tied up and they were building a _pyre!_ Was I just supposed to wait until they got the flint rocks out?” He snaps back in a rather petulant tone. The straightening of his spine, and stern expression says that Godric had better not say yes.

So does Rowena’s, even from halfway down the hall where she’s telling the little boy in question stories of all the fantastic things she’s ever seen and done. About the one time she tamed a threstral, or the time she wound up face to face with a unicorn. The time she tripped and fell head-first into a nest full of Jarvey, _and you had better not imitate their appalling manners young man._

Godric isn’t fool enough to argue the case any further, and gives in while he’s still got some dignity left. Rowena’s hexes _hurt_ dammit.

Meanwhile, Helga clucks over the skinny frame and threadbare clothes, before setting yet another plate of food in front of the waifish child and fixes him with a look that says ‘Now dear, you eat everything on that plate _or else_.’ Wisely, the kid doesn’t ask what _‘else’_ means.

It should be noted, for the sake of a thousand-years-difference, that while Arthur Weasley might be of Gryffindor stock, but his wife Molly was born a Prewitt, and they can trace their bloodline back to Helga's youngest sister. Where did you think the Prewitt’s red hair came from?]

So yeah… Hogwarts might be crazy, and the teachers are even worse... but it works. Somehow.

And doesn’t that just drive you mad with wonderment?


End file.
